Red
by tinuelena
Summary: Victor, head of the Security Council, masterminds a covert plot while forcing SHIELD to cut ties with the Avengers. As Brand hunts them, the Avengers face a new breed of soldier and seek to discover Victor's secrets before it's too late. As Loki learns to be a soldier on a foreign world, Natasha must accept her role as a ruler and come to terms with long-hidden pieces of her past.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome, readers! I'm so excited to finally be publishing the first chapter of this story.

I want to let you all know up front that I don't know how often I will be updating. I will work on it every spare second that I have, but my job doesn't give me a whole lot of spare time. My goal is going to be one update per week.

So... here we go! :)

xx

"Loki!"

He was nowhere to be seen, but the telltale thread of his magic wound through the battlefield, a bright tendril of green flame cutting down Fire Giants at their ankles.

Thor hurtled Mjolnir at an oncoming assailant, driving him hard into the cool soil, and shouted again. "Loki! The castle!"

From behind a tall boulder, Loki snapped his head around to see flame licking the thick trunks of the Ixchelian palace. Immediately, he took off across the field, wielding _Ljóskoma_, the spear of his Jotun great-grandfather. The Fire Giants of Muspelheim, thick-necked and grim, had invaded Ixchel for land; their own world, once bright with heat and life, was dying. To his left, fire fought with cold; as the Fire Giants flooded the forest with flame, the Jotnar countered it with frost and ice. Half-burned trees stood eerily frozen as the two groups of giants fought beneath their cold, scorched branches.

But Loki would not let the castle be touched. Though Ixchel's emperor and empress, Touhal and Sif, were in the midst of the battle, their infant son slumbered in the palace, and he would not allow that young life to be consumed by fire. Mid-sprint, he took a deep breath and shed his Asgardian flesh, letting his blue Jotun skin and red eyes show. Almost instantly, a sharp blow lifted him from his feet and sent him sprawling into a couple of his Aesir comrades. They helped him to his feet, cheering on their Jotun king. "Freeze him to the ground!" one roared, before his sword clashed with the armor of another assailant.

Loki, as always, calculated his next three moves before making his first. Fingers curled in an icy fist, Ljóskoma clenched in the other, he ran at the Fire Giant, both blades aiming to kill. His spear pierced the hot flesh of the Fire Giant's shoulder, but his dagger of ice melted as it touched the scaly red skin. "The famous Jotun king of Asgard," pronounced the Fire Giant, smirking at Loki's failure. He jerked away from the spear, leaving it bloodied in Loki's palm. "We are not as susceptible to your tricks as the Titan was."

Loki replied with a smirk. "You have not yet seen my entire arsenal, Muspel." Rendering himself invisible, and Ljóskoma with him, he left the Fire Giant grasping at air; he spun on his heel and leapt forward, plunging the tip of the spear through the Fire Giant's throat. As the fire in the trees blazed, he left the giant to die and unveiled himself once again.

Fandral spotted Loki racing toward the castle and plunged his sword into the stomach of a lumbering Fire Giant, then started in on the ones in Loki's path, drawing them away so Loki could get to the palace. "Touhal!" he yelled. "I could use your sword!"

The Emperor of Ixchel, face smeared with dirt and blood, hacked off a Fire Giant's leg and kicked him over, joining Fandral in clearing the way for Loki. "Can he stop it?"

"He is a Frost Giant," Fandral yelled back, his blade ripping through flesh. "He will turn it to ice!"

Thanks to the efforts of Fandral and Touhal, Loki reached the arsonist in no time. The sharp blade of Ljóskoma sank through the Fire Giant's back, and Loki kicked him away from the palace. The fire had already reached the topmost branches, and Loki pressed his palms to the blazing trunk, gritting his teeth through the pain. Ice crept slowly up the trunk of the tree, but the fire was spreading too quickly.

"Fálki!" he screamed. "Help me!"

As Loki's biological uncle turned from the fight, his eyes grew wide as he took in the blaze. He only got a few steps in before being knocked down by a tall Fire Giant with a chunk carved out of his arm. The giant was smiling. As their blades clashed, Loki helplessly looked around for another Jotun, but most of them were in the woods. _I'm on my own._

He turned his attention back to the castle, running through spells in his mind, desperately trying to make the cold spread more quickly. The veins of ice still trickled up the tree, but the fire had torn through the uppermost branches and now threatened the inner sanctuary of the upper rooms. He wished desperately for the Casket of Ancient Winters; with it, he could have stopped the blaze in an instant. But it was not his to use. It now rested in the vault of Utgard, Jotunheim's fortress.

Meanwhile, Fálki struggled to keep up with the brute strength of his enemy. As the Fire Giant swung overhead, Fálki barely blocked the blow; the icy dagger on his wrist shattered upon impact, and he hardly had time to conjure another to block the giant's second swing.

Then, suddenly, the Fire Giant let out a howl of pain, his leg seizing. Paralyzed, he fell to the ground with a thunderous crash, and Natasha ducked out of the way, blue electricity sizzling at her wrists. "Help him!" she demanded, and Fálki ran to the castle.

The elder Frost Giant put his massive hand to the castle wall, and ice shot up the sides, blocking the fire from going any further. Meanwhile, Loki's frost continued to thread up the trunk of the tree, eventually snuffing out the flames. "Damaged," Loki appraised, panting, "but not ruined."

Fálki eyed the topmost story of the palace with trepidation. "If the ice holds, perhaps; but if the ceiling were to collapse..."

"It is a hot day," Loki said.

"Made hotter by the fires."

Loki considered this. Then he put his hands back to the ice, staring at it with red eyes, and turned the ice to stone.

The trio turned their backs to the reinforced palace, ready to defend against other soldiers of Muspelheim who may have had the idea to restart the fire. But when they turned, Sif held the head of their leader by the hair, sword at his throat, and the Fire Giant dropped his own weapon in surrender.

He shouted a command in his native tongue, fear permeating his voice, and his soldiers threw their own weapons to the ground.

"It is over," Touhal said, a hand clamped over his own injured arm. Blue blood dripped from his fingers. "Take them to the dungeons."

xx

That night, the kings and queens and warriors feasted in the still-intact hall.

"It was a short invasion," Volstagg cracked, helping himself to yet another plate of roast meats.

"They did not count on the forces of Empress Sif the Fierce," Thor said with a grin.

Sif rolled her eyes. She'd earned the epithet from her people after a battle against the remaining members of the Ixchelian rebellion; Touhal had fallen ill, and they saw it as their chance to come out of hiding and take the throne. Sif was tipped off about the plot and decided to go on the offensive. Three months pregnant, rage flowing in her veins, Sif cut down one hundred of their men alone before her forces caught up with her. "They did not count on our alliance with your realms." She raised a goblet. "Without our Jotun friends, the fire would have consumed this palace and, likely, our son with it." She set a hand on nine-month-old Emehal's head, who chewed happily on a string of amber. "We owe you a debt, Fálki and Loki."

Loki gently inclined his head. "It is I who owe the debt, Lady Sif, and I will continue to repay it for the rest of my life."

Natasha glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She knew that her husband had once loved the Empress of Ixchel, and Loki had been open about nearly every detail. _There's something he's not yet telling me,_ she knew, chancing a look at Sif, who had taken a strong interest in refilling her goblet of wine.

Fálki set a heavy hand on his nephew's shoulder. "It comforts me to know that Jotunheim will have a good king when I am gone."

"You are the heir to Jotunheim's throne?" Sif raised an eyebrow. "When was this decided?"

"Only last week," Loki answered. "There has not yet been an official ceremony."

"He is the last of the bloodline," Fálki said. "Laufey is gone, and his other sons and brothers dead. Not only that, he has restored our world. And he is destined to be our leader."

"Destined?"

Natasha took a sip of wine. "His great-grandmother Kátali made a prophecy." Her voice flat, she glanced at Loki. "As did his mother."

"Fárbauti, that is," Loki clarified, "not Frigga."

"What was it?"

Loki thought of the day he met his biological mother, his hand in Natasha's as they edged down the icy stairs of the temple, the place where his father had abandoned him and left him to die. He could picture the vaulted ceilings, cracked under the weight of snow and ice, the eerie details of the carved _svaneblomst_ tree on the wall, snakes wound around its trunk. "My torture at the hands of Hel on Asgard. It has already come to pass," he settled on, before his throat closed.

The truth was, he had been back. He was not fluent in the native language of Jotunheim, and had not been able to read the runes on the wall when his mother showed them the etching of the tree. But he had stolen away in the night, a book of runes tucked under his arm, and traveled to the icy world through one of the secret passages he'd found in Vili's book. Invisible, he'd entered the temple and made his way into the ancient hall of prophecy. There, he had found the prophecy about his wife, the prophecy which had haunted his dreams since he'd read it.

Instinctively, he reached for Natasha's hand. "And, evidently, our marriage was written in the stars centuries ago."

"'The child of Midgard will rule at the side of the child of Jotunheim, the healer of worlds," intoned Natasha. "Us."

Fálki nodded. "Loki did, indeed, heal our world."

"Only after nearly destroying it." Sif, Jotunheim, Midgard... sometimes Loki felt like he would be atoning for the rest of his life.

"And yet we have not had so much cause for celebration in years." Fálki raised his glass to his nephew.

"Tonight," Loki said, "is to celebrate the great realm of Ixchel, their noble emperor and empress, and the strength and survival of its people in the face of invasion."

"And to victory," Thor chimed in, raising his goblet.

Loki grinned. "I'll drink to that."

xx

Three stories beneath the earth, Abigail Brand sat across the table from Killian. "All right. You said we had a common enemy, and you said you knew why the hell I had fire coming from my fingers. I want explanations."

Killian stood up, his fingers touching, choosing his words carefully. "You signed your life away to the government, you realize that?"

"I want answers, Doctor. Not riddles," she said flatly.

"Two years ago, when you were still a SEAL, you went in as a volunteer for the Extremis program. Your wounds healed, like they were supposed to. We had no idea you could make fire, not until your run-in with Loki."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How could you possibly know-"

In response, he pulled a syringe from his inside jacket pocket. "I invented it."

"What did it do to me? How does it work?"

"You were one of the first test subjects. The other thing you didn't know is that we were having a problem with Extremis; namely, that the virus wouldn't stabilize and the subjects' bodies would reject it. The rest of our subjects- well, there's no nice way to put this. They exploded."

"Are you kidding me?"

"You're the only one who has stabilized, Abigail. Unfortunately, until recently, we didn't know where you were. You were recruited into SHIELD and we didn't have the security clearance to access your files any longer. Then, by a stroke of luck, we found you."

"What do you want from me?"

"A blood sample. That's all. We need to know what it was about you that made this stabilize."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What do I get in return?"

"Your revenge."

xx

"Director Hill."

"Council." She stood, feet apart, hands on her hips, a stance that was as much her trademark as an eyepatch had been her predecessor's. After Fury's death, she had been promoted to the position of SHIELD's director. She'd spoken out in favor of promoting Phil Coulson instead, but he was running his own team now, and wanted to stay with them. It was her personal opinion that anyone who could wrestle Agent Melinda May back in to fieldwork deserved to run the whole show. Nevertheless, he made no bones about the fact that he wanted to spend his time in the field, not behind a desk, and so Maria had filled Fury's shoes.

"We need to talk about the Avenger Initiative."

"What about it?"

"We have decided that it needs to be shut down."

Maria stared back at the screens in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"We will not associate ourselves with them, and we will henceforth treat them as a possible threat."

"They saved this world!" shouted Maria. "In fact, Tony Stark personally saved the lives of every man, woman, and child on Manhattan Island after _you_ tried to kill them all! If there's a possible threat here, I'm looking at them!"

"Manhattan is in pieces!" spat a blonde woman in a severe bob, known only to Maria as her code name, Delta. Her shrill voice rang in Maria's ear. "That raging green beast pulled down just as many buildings as the Chitauri!"

"That raging green beast," Maria said, shaking with anger, "also stopped several of their Leviathans from wreaking havoc on the city, saved countless lives, and spends his free time helping sick people in Calcutta."

"Then he can stay with Mother Teresa," said code name Oscar, cutting in to the conversation.

"What are you afraid of?" Maria demanded.

Delta was silent for a moment before she delivered her response. "That they cannot be controlled."

"And you think that cutting them loose from SHIELD will stop them? Or make things any better? Tony Stark was a vigilante in an armored suit before SHIELD. Thor is a literal god from Norse legend. And what about Barton and Romanoff? They're ours!"

Code name Victor leaned forward, an old man with a thick Russian accent. "You reported to us that Natasha Romanoff is now married to Loki, who they now count as an Avenger himself."

"And who has made a 180 in terms of alliances and behavior. He's fighting the good fight now."

"So you think."

She narrowed her eyes. "I was _on_ Asgard. I saw him fight. He saved this entire universe from the terror of Thanos. You might not have the goddamn sight to see how he protected us, since it happened on a different world, but we are alive and free today thanks to Loki."

Victor was unmoved. "Agent Romanoff, Thor, and Jane Foster have allied themselves with our enemy; thus, they are now our enemies as well. You will immediately cut ties with all of them."

Maria felt like breaking the screen. "And Steve Rogers? How is he a threat?"

"There is a plan for Steve Rogers."

"Which is?"

"U.S. Army Special Forces."

"You want to make him a Green Beret."

Delta tilted her head. "It would be the best use of his skills."

_What would Fury do?_ It was a question that she'd found herself asking often, even though she and Fury had butted heads more than once during her tenure as assistant director. "You think I'm going to be easier than Fury," she said, finding her voice. "You think I'll roll over and accept this. But let me tell you something. When you make a stupid decision, I, like my predecessor, will ignore it. The Avengers are the best response team we have."

"Phase Two-"

"Was mostly destroyed when Loki traveled here, and now that the Tesseract is no longer on this world, we do not have the technology to continue the research."

"What about the recovered Chitauri weapons?"

Maria sighed. "That isn't the point here. The point is, we know that there are threats out there. They have been subdued, but who knows what's coming next? I'd certainly feel better if I had two demigods, a couple of super soldiers, a genius, and the Hulk on my side if and when that happens."

Victor shook his head. "There is a different program in place. You will have your response team, Director Hill. But it will not be the Avengers. Notify your team of misfits that they are no longer affiliated with SHIELD. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff are both Level Eight. You know what this means. You will initiate the Appius Protocol."

Maria swallowed hard. "I will bring them in for interrogation. But I will not kill one of my own agents."

"If you do not want that protocol initiated against yourself, Director Hill, I suggest you do."

Before Maria could respond to this, the screen went black.

xx

"Being a queen on one world is difficult enough," Natasha sighed, tossing her circlet onto the nightstand. They were back on Asgard, in their own chambers. She shed her gown immediately, leaving it pooled on the floor, and reached for a pair of black yoga pants and a ribbed tank top. "And I share my duties with Jane. _And_ without your mother to help us throw these grand feasts and balls and parties, the two of us would be lost." She fell on the bed, and their little _nussespring_ immediately jumped up to demand attention. It nudged her hand, and she scratched behind its ears. "At least, on Asgard, I feel like I could fit in someday. You're not _that_ different from us. But on Jotunheim... the only thing I have in common with that world is that I know how to live in a constant blizzard. What does it mean to be Jotun?"

Loki sat down next to her. "I do not know," he said quietly. "I have spent so much of my life shunning my roots that I truly have no idea."

"So how do we rule a world that we don't know how to rule?"

His hand found hers. "We learn."

"Being a mercenary was so much simpler than being a ruler." She moved over for Loki as he crawled under the covers. "No false pretenses, no faces to put on, no dignitaries to receive."

"It's somewhat similar, is it not? As a spy, you often had to pretend you were someone else... you had to put on false pretenses to gain the trust of your enemies... you did a fabulous job of it when you met me for the first time, if I remember correctly."

She allowed herself a small smile. "I suppose that's true." She turned on to her side, facing away from Loki, who curled into her shape and kissed her shoulder. He slipped his fingers under the hem of her tank top, absently stroking her back. Contentedly, she closed her eyes. It had become a nightly ritual, for Loki to touch her like this.

Natasha wanted to ask about Sif, about the debt Loki owed her, the one he'd have to pay back for eternity, but she didn't want to ruin the moment. "Something just occurred to me," she said instead.

"What?"

"You promised to touch me like this every night for the rest of your life."

"So I did."

"How old are you, exactly?"

He kissed her shoulder again. "In terms of Asgardian years, or Earth years?"

"It would be easier for me to understand in Earth years, I suppose."

Loki did some quick math in his head. "About 1,052 years old."

"How long will you live?"

"Thousands more."

Her eyes fell closed. "I have lived over eighty; I don't know how long I've got. I've never really thought about it before."

"You will have as long as I have."

She turned and, in Loki's eyes, she saw a secret. She'd grown used to it; he'd had the same mischievous light in his eyes when he'd taken her to the armory to have her custom-fitted for her own Asgardian armor, and when he'd tried his level best to cook a Russian meal for the two of them. The _kotleta po-kievsky_ had been, at once, the worst and the best she'd ever had. "What do you mean?"

"The goddess Iðunn lives high in the Asgardian mountains. There, she grows golden apples which grant youth and life to those who eat them."

"I've heard of her; your mother told me about her. But she said she guards them jealously, and no one but she and her husband consume them."

Loki smoothed a lock of hair from Natasha's forehead. "Do you not wonder why no man tries to steal them? Why no one has killed her for them?"

"She owes you a favor."

"She was kidnapped, once; I rescued her. And it is my magic which protects her now. I have negotiated with her; you and Jane will live as long as you wish."

Despite his declaration, she read the fear in his face. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing."

"Loki. Tell me."

He took her into his arms. "It is nothing," he lied, chin resting on the top of her head. "Truly. I just- I worry about losing you."

She smiled into his chest. "I know how to survive. I did it for decades without you. You don't have to worry about me."

He returned to touching her back, fingers tracing soft circles on her skin. In his mind, Loki saw the vision that haunted him day and night: a hand, cut deep with wrinkles, reaching toward Natasha. She was bound, helpless, her eyes wide with fear; Loki, too, found himself unable to move, unable to help her.

As Natasha drifted off, Loki held her close and stayed awake, fearing the nightmares that would come with sleep.

xx

Aldrich Killian straightened his tie as he sat behind a computer. Two armed guards stood outside the door. A mysterious man known only to him as Victor had contacted him several weeks prior, demanding a meeting. He had set the terms, informing Killian that they could not meet face-to-face, but that they would have a conference via computer. Due to the heavy level of encryption needed, he'd said, he would send a team to collect him. Killian had been deposited into the back of a comfortable towncar; though the blacked-out windows made it a little unsettling, he'd enjoyed the glass of Moet on the drive to- wherever this was. The car had come to a stop in an underground tunnel, and he had been escorted- with a blindfold over his eyes- to a sparse room with brushed metal walls. The only things inside were the computer and the chair on which he sat.

The screen came to life, and he set eyes on a wrinkled face. His code name appeared beneath him: Victor.

"Dr. Killian," said Victor. "I'm glad you could make it. Allow me to apologize for the manner in which you were retrieved; the nature of our work demands the utmost security and secrecy."

"Yet you're allowing me to see your face."

"An astute observation, as one would expect from a man of your intelligence."

"Exactly what is it that you want from me?"

Victor leaned forward. "Extremis."

"Extremis is a military project, funded by the U.S. government. I cannot do business with you."

"You misunderstand," said Victor. "This is not a request. We can do this one of two ways. We can reward you with a handsome sum of money, and you can continue your research and give us what we need; or we can take Dr. Maya Hansen and your entire facility into our own hands by force. We prefer conducting business in a civilized manner when possible, and it would be preferable to have your cooperation, as you are an expert on this serum. One way or another, however, we will have Extremis."

_God damn it, Aldrich,_ Killian thought, _you shouldn't have allowed yourself to come down here._ He was trapped, and he knew it. "Why do you want it?"

"We need a new step in the evolution of soldiers."

_Then you must not be the U.S. Army,_ he thought; _they have Captain America for that._

"Don't fool yourself," Victor said, almost as if he'd read his mind. "We work at a different level than the United States Army. But we are not the enemy."

Killian wanted to laugh, but maintained his calm visage. "Tell me what you have in mind."

"We possess the formula for the serum which gave Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff their endurance, strength, and longevity. Combined with your Extremis serum, we can create soldiers who are nearly indestructible."

"To fight for whom?"

"For the restoration of the status quo of ten years ago."

Killian tilted his head, silently asking for clarification.

Victor went on. "Ten years ago, Tony Stark still made weapons, no demigod had touched a foot on the planet since the eleventh century, and Steve Rogers was still frozen in ice. Ten years ago, Bruce Banner was in hiding and Natasha Romanoff's most dangerous connection was to the Russian underground; she has since married the war criminal Loki and rules as Queen of Asgard. To preserve the peace on this planet, we must return our world to order. And to fight a group of people who have superhuman abilities, we need soldiers whose abilities are just as strong, if not stronger."

"And you want AIM to create them for you."

"Yes. If you agree, you will leave here with one hundred million U.S. dollars in a Swiss bank account, full financing of this project, and our protection. If you do not agree, you will leave here in a body bag and we will take your formula anyway. It is your choice."

"Not much of a choice."

Victor smiled. "But a choice nonetheless."

"Why don't you just kill me and save yourself the money?"

"Dr. Hansen is not the only brain behind this project. If we have you both, we can begin injecting our soldiers sooner."

Killian nodded. "Then I suppose we have an agreement. By the way, though, Extremis is not stable. Without stabilization, certain subjects quite literally self-destruct."

"We have every confidence that you will fix it before your first batch of subjects is delivered," said Victor. "In fact, we would bet your life on it. You have already made contact with Abigail Brand, have you not? Good day, Dr. Killian."

The monitor switched off, and the armed guards came in to blindfold him once more.

As Killian sat in the back of the towncar, he eyed the bottle of Moet. He'd need something much stronger than that after the events of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

"What have you done now?"

Loki laughed. "You act as though I am about to play some trick on you."

"After last night's dinner, I'm staying on high alert."

He shook his head in mock disappointment, though he still smiled. "I thought you could use a place in this palace that is yours, and yours alone. The carpenters have been working hard; I wanted to have it ready for you by today, since we go to Jotunheim tomorrow..." Without giving anything further away, he threw open the set of double doors, and Natasha entered a ballet studio, complete with _barre,_ floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and a beautiful hardwood floor.

She grinned, something she was still becoming used to; her life hadn't before given her much occasion to smile so often. "You never cease to amaze, Loki." Turning back to him, she gave him a kiss. "Thank you."

"I know that dancing is your escape," he replied, "and I know that this ceremony has been a source of stress for you..." He took her hands and sat down with her on the bench. "That everything has been a stress for you, really. I just... I wanted to tell you that, if you wanted me to, I would give up every claim to every throne and return to Earth with you. I never wanted to be a king, not really, and now I am facing the responsibility of two thrones. It is a daunting prospect."

Silence reigned for a moment until Natasha responded. "I never wanted to be a queen," she said quietly, "and here I am. I'm not sure I want to be one now, honestly. But I couldn't go back to my old life, even if I wanted to. How could I be a spy now, after my face was plastered all over the world news? How could I slip back into anonymity now that children are dressing up as Black Widow and playing Avengers with their friends? Things have changed forever."

"I would imagine there would still be a place for you with SHIELD. Everyone knows the secret identity of Iron Man, but that has not stopped Tony."

She laughed, a soft, rueful sound. "No. I'm a realist. This is my reality now, and I will learn to be an Asgardian queen, and a princess of Jotunheim, as foreign as that concept is to me." She paused. "And I am certainly not Tony Stark."

"Oh, come on. Have him make you a suit." He was grinning now. "All red and black. Call yourself Iron Maiden."

"Is that what you think of me?" Her tone was playful. "I'm a torture device?"

"You can be, to your enemies. Luckily, I'm on your good side now."

"For the moment."

He nudged her playfully. "Can I have a dance?"

She rose and extended a hand to him. "I'm going to teach you one of ours this time," she said to him, "one that doesn't result in a marriage ceremony."

"I told you, I wasn't trying to trick you..."

She pulled him close. "God of tricks, completely innocent." She cut him off before he could protest. "Set your hand on my waist. This is called a waltz."

"Very proper."

"Actually, it shocked a great many people when it was introduced," she told him, threading their fingers together. "It was seen as scandalous, since the dancers were in such close contact. It was the wife of a Russian ambassador who gave it her seal of approval and made it respectable."

"I appreciate scandal," said Loki, letting his hand drift, and Natasha shook her head good-naturedly as she began to hum a tune.

As they glided across the floor, Natasha couldn't shake the feeling that this would be her last truly peaceful moment with her husband for a long time. _I'm just used to trouble,_ she tried to tell herself. _It's just that I've grown to expect it._

But no matter how easily she spun across the floor, no matter how deeply Loki's smile warmed her, the nagging thought would not leave her head. _It's time for a new war._

xx

A half-empty bottle of Scotch sat on Aldrich Killian's mahogany desk next to three chewed-up pencils and a notepad full of scribbles.

_ What the fuck am I going to do?_

A knock sounded at the door, and he swept his writing supplies into a desk drawer. "Come in," he called.

Maya, wearing a long skirt, a peasant blouse, and a grin, swept through the door and poured herself a drink. "Abigail's the key," she said, somewhat breathless. "She's it."

He nodded slowly, brow furrowed.

"Don't you understand? We're one step closer to understanding. To getting this nailed down. Smile, why don't you?"

Instead, he grabbed a fresh pencil and stuck the eraser in his mouth. "How long do you think it will take?"

"What? To tweak the formula? We could have it by next year. We need more test subjects, and I need to have time to figure out what antigens and antibodies are making this process possible... then I need to synthesize them..."

"We'll have new subjects soon."

She arched an eyebrow. "From where?"

"It doesn't matter. We just need to get this done quickly. We don't have a year."

Maya uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Then we need Tony Stark."

"What?" Killian seethed. "If there's one man I don't want to work with, it's that pretentious son of a bitch."

"Look, I know what you think of him. But he could solve this problem drunk. He _did_ solve it drunk. We just need to ask him again."

He gnawed on the pencil. "Fine. I'll set up a meeting with Pepper Potts."

"Aldrich..." Maya watched his face intently. "What aren't you telling me? Where are we getting our test subjects? Why do we have to have this so soon?"

"I can honestly tell you that I don't know where they're coming from. All I know is that a group of very powerful people are demanding our cooperation. And if we don't cooperate, they're going to steal our research, kill me, and kidnap you to force you to finish it. I don't know about you, but I'd rather stay at AIM and do it ourselves."

Maya's eyes widened. "Shouldn't we tell someone? The FBI?"

"I'm fairly certain that they were much higher up in this world than the FBI. There's nothing to do but cooperate." He sighed. "Look. Go home, get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll start in on this. I'll make an appointment at Stark Industries. Meanwhile, you can get started with Abigail's blood samples."

She got up to leave, and her hand was on the door when she turned around. "Aldrich? Are we in danger?"

He didn't answer for a long while. "I'm going to take precautions."

Nodding, she slipped out the door.

As soon as it latched shut, he pulled out his notepad again. He'd sketched a rudimentary figure with a long beard and a high ponytail. Next to it, he'd written a list of names. He crossed out "Khan-" too "Star Trek." One by one, he eliminated them until only one was left- _The Mandarin._

xx

"We have a problem."

The assistant director of SHIELD, Safiya Tahir, sat across the table from Maria in a busy Indian restaurant. She was dressed as she usually dressed: plain, loose black trousers, a plain black long-sleeved blouse, and a brightly colored hijab. Today's was printed with large hibiscuses, and the print reminded Maria of Tahiti. Safiya waited quietly for her boss to continue.

"I spoke with the Security Council yesterday. They have ordered me to cut the Avengers loose from SHIELD and send a team to eliminate Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton."

"I can only assume you wanted to meet with me outside of HQ because you're thinking of disobeying this order."

Maria pursed her lips. "I've been threatened with the Appius Protocol myself if I don't follow through. What would you do?"

"Be happy that Agent Romanoff's currently not on this planet, for one. That buys us a little time."

"And when she comes back?"

"Tell her to turn around and go straight back to Asgard. We don't have the ability to travel there; we couldn't kill her if we wanted to. But, no matter what, you can't assign a team to murder Agent Romanoff."

Maria bit in to her _bhajia._ "I haven't. Unfortunately, I've been bypassed."

"What?"

"Abigail Brand received orders this morning, directly from the Council. She's to bring Barton and Romanoff in, question them, then kill them. Predictably, she's thrilled." Her voice dripped with disdain. "Nothing like a direct order and a pat on the head from the high command to make her even more fucking insufferable."

"What? SWORD's job is to respond to extraterrestrial threats-"

"Yeah, well, Romanoff married one, so apparently she qualifies now."

She sighed. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am."

"Granted."

She leaned forward. "First they want to reinstate Phase Two. Then they bypass you to give Brand a direct order. Something's not right here."

"So I'm not the only one who thinks something is rotten in the state of Denmark."

"If I know you, ma'am, you won't sit idly by."

Maria sat back. "It has to look like I am. The Council can't suspect otherwise, or they'll take me out, and install someone who will take their orders."

"So what do we do?"

"Cut them loose," Maria said. "Cooperate with the Council. Warn Barton. And warn the rest of the Avengers."

"Warn them about what?"

"I don't think that the Council won't be satisfied with simply cutting them loose. They'll want them dead. They're not telling us to kill Barton and Romanoff just because they're level eight."

Safiya nodded. "And they'll force our hand. Send our agents to get them." She absently tapped her fingernails together, a sign that told Maria she was thinking hard. "So, we're going to war with the Security Council."

"That we are."

"We're going to need some allies."

"I've already thought about that." She picked up her mango _lassi_, took a sip, and deliberately set it down on the right side of the table.

From the other side of the restaurant, Phil Coulson emerged from behind a newspaper and crossed the room, pulling up a chair. "So." He plucked a _bhajia_ from the plate and smiled at Maria and Safiya. "What treason are we about to commit?"

xx

Rain fell in sheets from the sky as Clint Barton waited outside the American Museum of National History, hands jammed in his pockets.

Towncars and limousines pulled up as the guests filtered out, attendants holding large black umbrellas over their heads; the drivers got out in the rain, raindrops pounding their flat-topped hats as they opened the doors, letting the vehicles swallow the gala's couture-swathed attendees in luxury and warmth.

Clint saw a few recognizable faces: politicians both upstanding and corrupt, a few famous actors and actresses, the upper crust of philanthropists and billionaires. Then he saw the couple he was waiting for.

"Stark!"

Tony spun around, fists in the air, and let out a sigh of relief as he saw Clint emerge from the shadows. "Jesus Christ, Barton, you almost gave me a heart attack." He lowered his hands. "What are you doing?"

He glanced at the young man holding the umbrella for Pepper and Tony, not wanting to say too much in mixed company. "I came to talk to you. It's important. I could use someplace to warm up."

"Come on," said Pepper, ushering him forward. "Let's get you out of the rain."

As soon as they were in the limousine, Tony put the divider up and looked at his shivering comrade. "Alright, Barton. What the hell is going on?"

"Why don't you pour me a drink?"

Tony took out a glass from the bar, threw a couple of ice cubes in, and filled it halfway, passing it over.

He took a sip, feeling the warmth course through him, and wriggled out of his thin wet sweater. "SHIELD has put an order out for my immediate capture and execution."

Tony stared back at him as though he'd spoken a different language. "What?"

He grabbed one of the little hand towels from the bar and began to dry his hair. "I wouldn't have known unless I'd been tipped off. Apparently Hill and Brand both received an order to initiate the Appius Protocol on both Natasha and I."

"The Appius Protocol?" Pepper said. "What's that?"

Clint turned to her. "In the Roman Republic," he said flatly, "a consul called Appius Claudius Sabinus Inregillensis punished his army for betrayal. Any man who he deemed a traitor- soldiers, centurions, and standard-bearers alike- were whipped and beheaded. Of the remaining army, they drew lots. One in ten was executed."

"They think you've betrayed them?"

Clint looked back at Tony. "Apparently the Avenger Initiative has been dropped. We've been declared enemies. And since Natasha and I are both Level Eight inside SHIELD... well, that's the purpose of the Appius Protocol. They capture us, interrogate us, and then kill us. We know too much to just send us home with a pink slip."

With a sigh, Tony poured himself a drink while he digested this information. "Who tipped you off?"

He shrugged. "That's the thing. I have no idea."

"Where's Romanoff?"

"She's on Asgard. Safe, until she comes back. We have no way to warn her."

Pepper glanced at Tony. She could tell he was shaken, and pressed the button on the intercom. "Change in plans, Happy. We're not flying out tonight." She gave him a new address, which Clint didn't recognize.

"Not Stark Tower?" he asked.

Tony shook his head. "Good thinking, honey. They'll be looking for him there."

"Where are we going, then?"

A grin spread across Tony's face. "Elsewhere."

xx

Abigail Brand sat at her secure terminal in her locked office with brand-new power in her thumbprint.

That morning, she had been contacted by code name Victor of the Security Council and briefed. Nothing had yet been proven, he'd said in conspiratorial tones, but the Council suspected dissent in the ranks. He could not give all the details, but it was strongly suspected that a high-ranking SHIELD official was not committed to eliminating the Avenger Initiative. _This individual is a great asset to us,_ he'd droned on, _and we would like them to remain with us, but we need to cleanse this organization of this ragtag team of misfits. As the director of SHIELD's offshoot, we are choosing to trust you with the task of disseminating information to the public which will negatively influence public opinion about their so-called "heroes."_ She was then informed that she would be provided with level eight clearance, effective immediately, and was also given a direct order to initiate the Appius Protocol: bring in Barton and Romanoff, interrogate them, and kill them. No one was to know about the mission.

She tried not to smile too widely as she assured him she would not let him down.

Pulling out a legal pad, she accessed the files on the Avengers. Seven faces lit up on the screen before her; she regarded them all with a sneer. Since the battle on Asgard, she hadn't been in touch with any of them, save for Clint; and even the conversation with him had been rather brief. She'd thanked him, of course, for saving her life a second time, and he'd characteristically shrugged it off with cool detachment.

_First you pull me out of that truck, and then you fight through a bunch of crazed aliens to haul me back even though you thought I was dead? I owe you a debt, Barton._

_ No, _he'd said quickly, thinking of Natasha._ I don't like being owed._

_ All the same. Thank you._

As she walked off down the hall, she'd felt his eyes on her.

Fingers tapping at her keyboard, she wondered briefly if, under different circumstances, they could have been allies. He would make a wonderful informant for her now. But he was too inextricably linked to the Avengers, and too devoted to Natasha Romanoff to ever turn against them.

She clicked on Natasha's dossier. As the screen filled with information, she thought her computer was going to crash. A dark smile spread across her face as she read about SHIELD's golden child and her bloody history. _She set a hospital on fire? Oh, this is going to be a piece of cake,_ she thought gleefully, as she picked up her pen.

xx

As he got out of the car, Clint was met with a large neon sign. One of the letters was burned out, and a few other ones were blinking erratically. "Elsewhere," he read. "Well, you weren't kidding."

Tony and Pepper followed him out of the car. En route, Happy had stopped to drop them off to pick up a nondescript Ford Fiesta, and Pepper had traded her Zuhair Murad gown for jeans and a Sixpoint Brewery windbreaker in a gas station restroom. With Tony in a pair of Levi's, a New York Islanders T-shirt, and a ball cap, the trio looked like they belonged at the blue-collar bar.

Their senses were assailed as they pushed through the beat-up door into the packed bar. The scent of onion rings and cardboard pizza hung thickly in the air, and the jukebox blasted an old Lynyrd Skynyrd song over the crack of pool balls and loud conversation.

Tony edged up to the bar, sitting down between a Joan Jett doppelganger and an overweight fifty-something with five-o-clock shadow. "What can I get you?" said the bartender.

"Do you have Bright Iron Stout on tap?" he asked.

The bartender straightened, his eyes widening. "I'll get Jimmy. Come on back."

He led the three back through the maze of pool tables and through a small door with an "Employees Only" sign nailed to the frame.

The bartender disappeared, and Jimmy came in a few short minutes later. "Mr. Stark, sir."

Tony stood, shook his hand, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Jimmy. How's the bar doing?"

"Pretty well. This is about as slow as it gets here," he reported, a smile spreading across his face. "We'll be sending Jackie to college next year." He turned to Pepper and Clint. "Jackie's my wife," he explained. "She always wanted to be a teacher."

"That's great! Listen, is it all right if we go on down?"

"Of course! It's your bar-"

"No, it's _yours._ Thank you."

Jimmy pried a section of paneling from the wall, revealing a keypad, and Tony tapped in a code. The light on the keypad turned green, and a door appeared in the paneling. Tony ushered Pepper and Clint through, gave Jimmy a nod, and he sealed it shut.

"Jimmy was a custodian at Stark Industries," Tony explained, as they headed down a set of dimly lit metal stairs. "Good guy. Hard worker. Trustworthy. I gave him the bar when I decided I needed a safe place to go that wasn't so..."

"Ostentatious?" Pepper said.

"Conspicuous," said Tony simultaneously. He raised an eyebrow at Pepper and smiled wryly. "Is that what you think of me? Ostentatious?"

"Ostentatious… a show-off..." she offered, and Tony smiled as he flicked on a light switch.

The first thing Clint noticed as the caged fluorescent lights flickered on was the Iron Man suit in a glass case at the back of the room. Tony saw him looking. "Always prepared," Tony told him. "You never know when you'll end up harboring an enemy of the state."

"I was just wishing I had my bow," Clint responded. "I didn't really have time to stop and get armor, and I certainly couldn't jump on a passenger train with it."

"Nothing we can't take care of." Tony sat down in an office chair. "Jarvis. Fire up."

"Good evening, sir."

"Locate the Avengers."


	3. Chapter 3

"To be honest, I don't know why SHIELD didn't want you working for them directly." Colonel James Rhodes carried a thick file in his hand as he strode down the hallway, Steve Rogers at his side. "You're a little out of our league."

"I appreciate that, Colonel," said Steve, "and, actually, they did. I was also contacted about Special Forces. But I'd rather be reporting to a man I respect and trust."

"Director Hill doesn't have your respect and trust?"

"It's not about individuals; it's about the organization. I'm much more comfortable with the Air Force than I am with an organization who makes their trade on secrets and lies."

Rhodes pushed through a set of double doors. "I'm not going to complain about having Captain America under my command." He glanced back. "I also hear you're not too bad at jumping out of planes."

"Sir?"

He came to a stop in the hallway. "There's a situation in the Ukraine."

"Kiev again?"

Rhodes shook his head. "It's going to get a lot worse than Kiev if we don't do something right away. I'd like to have your help."

"Of course. What's the assignment?"

"This is very hush-hush. I only just got approval for this mission, and it wasn't easy to persuade the top brass, but it's crucial. I'll tell you right now that some of it falls under your expertise: strength and strategy. But I'll warn you; this is part soldier, part spy."

"In that case," he replied with a wry smile, "I'll try my best to remind myself what Agent Romanoff would do."

"Good." He stopped at his office door. "Report at 0800 hours tomorrow for briefing."

"Yes, sir."

Rhodes gave a salute; Steve returned the gesture and continued on down the hallway.

Locking his door behind him, Rhodes deposited the file on his desk, took off his hat, and picked up the phone. After a couple rings, a familiar voice answered.

"Rhodey. How's the other star-spangled soldier doing?"

He rolled his eyes, glancing at a sketch of the new Iron Patriot armor that sat on his desk. "I'll have him on a plane to Kiev by nightfall tomorrow. I've got him on a sort-of legitimate mission, but it's not nearly as top-secret or high priority as I told him. Not a soul but you, me, and the pilot will know where he is."

"Who's his high-profile target?"

Rhodes sighed. "He'll be tracking down the leader of a prostitution ring."

Tony's laughter exploded into the phone. "Are you kidding me? Mr. Wholesome himself is going to wade knee-deep into a _prostitution ring?_ Jesus, Rhodey, you have a sadistic sense of humor."

Despite himself, he smiled. "He'll be fine."

"I'm sure."

"Tony..." Rhodes paused, staring out the window, watching a bird devour its prey. "Are you sure we shouldn't keep him here?"

"Banner and Barton are already headed to Romania. Look, any one of us who stays in the country is a god damn idiot. The most powerful organization in the world has a price on our heads, and they're in our back yard."

"Are you leaving?"

Rhodes could practically hear the smirk in his friend's voice. "Of course not. Who ever said I was smart? Talk to you later, Rhodey."

xx

Killian turned over a piece of rubble with his foot and sighed. A few short hours ago, six shadows had been burned into the concrete.

The first phase had gone fine. His six subjects had survived the perfected super soldier process. It was like clockwork; he and Maya had watched them turn from regular, fit soldiers into near-machines. Killian had seen Captain America on television, of course, but nothing had prepared him for seeing these abilities in person. As he watched them run, lift, and climb, a greedy smile spread across his face; perhaps he'd take the world right out from under Victor's hands. After all, he already had the perfect terrorist; the drug-addicted Trevor Slattery had arrived that morning, in an LSD-induced haze, and they would be making their first broadcast soon with Slattery as the Mandarin, the first maneuver to draw Tony Stark to his doorstep.

Only one of the subjects exhibited any side effects from the process. After passing out during his endurance test, he was treated for exhaustion. Then, with blind obedience, he marched into the concrete room affectionately referred to as "the bunker" by Maya with his five comrades. He listened to the gruesome description of the process; the injection, the cocoon of scabs, the reprogramming of the brain. And then he took off his shirt and allowed Maya to insert the needle into the base of his spine.

Mere hours later, he was the first to explode in a flash of light.

Maya joined Killian. "He was the only one with a family," she said quietly. "Two kids. Little kids."

Angrily, he kicked the chunk of concrete against the wall. "I don't give a damn about the bastard's family!" His shout echoed off the walls, and Maya backed away. "God damn it, what went wrong?"

"We started too early. I told you, we needed time to see if the antibodies would-"

"Do you realize that I am going to have to face this man and tell him that I killed the first six people he sent to me?"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" She threw her arms up in exasperation. "I tell you that I need time. You tell me to do it anyway. I warn you that it's likely they won't stabilize, and you tell me _again_ to just go through with it. This isn't on me, Aldrich. Either give me the time I need, or get off my back about your six dead subjects."

Sending a metal chair crashing to the floor, he strode out and slammed the door.

xx

Though Jotunheim was cold, the reception of the Frost Giants was warm. When the Bifrost deposited Loki and Natasha on the snowy ground, a handful of Jotun guards greeted them in grand style. Two _hrúturhesturs_ led an empty chariot, crafted entirely of silver and domed with a cover of ivory velvet. Loki could tell it had been made especially for them; it would fit no ordinary Frost Giant.

A sturdy Jotun dismounted from his _hrúturhestur_ and came forward to meet them. He bowed deeply. "Loki and Natasha, King and Queen of Asgard, future rulers of our realm, we bid you welcome. King Fálki regrets he could not ride out to meet you; he is still at _samræðaborð._"

Loki recognized the guard; he was the young sentry who had been so shocked at the appearance of water on the one and only day he'd used the Infinity Gauntlet. "We are eager to see him."

He inclined his head and opened the door of the chariot. Natasha didn't move, and Loki gently put a hand on her elbow; at the touch, she remembered to move, and climbed inside. When they were comfortably settled across from each other, the young guard shut the door and led the company off across the frozen plain.

"Natasha." Loki leaned forward, his voice a whisper.

She watched the landscape with unblinking eyes, fists clenched in close-fitting gloves of golden fabric, jaw set.

He put a hand on hers. "Natasha? What's wrong?"

"I..." She trailed off, eyes fixed on the tall towers of Utgard. "Nothing."

"Tell me," he said, and it was more of a plea than a command.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Just... acclimating."

He switched seats and settled in next to her, snaking an arm around her waist. "We can turn back any time," he reminded her quietly.

"I don't turn back," came her response.

Loki nodded. "You told me once that you had always wanted to stay the night in one of Midgard's ice hotels."

"Yes. Why haven't we gone yet?"

"Can you imagine what they would look like here?"

She settled back. "Vaulted ceilings," she said dryly, and Loki laughed.

When they entered Utgard, Loki sat up. "Look," he said, more to himself than to Natasha. "How..."

The Jotun fortress, once silent and broken, now bustled with activity. Its crumbling buildings had been rebuilt or repaired, the tall stone structures all pointing triumphantly skyward, creating a beautifully jagged skyline. Tents of strong timber and coarse cloth protected smiths as they worked, forging weapons and gates and iron furniture. The sizzle of hot metal plunging into cold piles of snow gave a staccato background noise to the steady hum of conversation in the square. One Jotun bartered with another over a pile of silvery fish; a nearby butcher left the snow beneath his stand red as he slaughtered fresh livestock and cut up the meat. Chickens clucked and a crimson rooster crowed, their harsh squawks cutting through the dulcet music of a Jotun harpist.

As the procession passed through the street, the crowd grew hushed- and then burst into cheers as they recognized the diminutive Frost Giant in the carriage.

"_Tilbiðja_ Loki!" they shouted. Some of them made fists, growing icy daggers over their hands, and held them aloft as they knelt in deference. "_Tilbiðja_ Loki!"

His face blanched. The chant of the Chitauri rang in his ears- _M'ch haeg Loki! M'ch haeg Loki!_

_ What am I doing here?_

He glanced at Natasha, who looked equally shaken, and reached for her hand.

"You're their savior," she said to him. "You gave them back their world."

"I betrayed them all. I nearly erased Jotunheim from the cosmos."

"Stop it," she spat, her tone suddenly harsh.

"What?"

"You're always... look, I know you killed a lot of people. I know you did a lot of wrong things. But if you want to do good now, you _have_ to move on. I know you won't forget, and I'm not saying you should; but _you have to move on._ You have a responsibility to these people now, and you need to be strong, and you need to be confident. You need to walk out of this chariot like a king."

The chants and cheers continued as they rode, and Loki could not help but remember his words to Laufey in this very fortress: _I suspect that the Asgardians would not take kindly to a king who had murdered his predecessor._ And here he was, about to take a solemn vow to honor the throne whose occupant he had once slain in cold blood: his biological father.

_ I have no right to be here._

Natasha pressed his hand. "This is your birthright," she told him flatly, as if she could read his thoughts. "You are Jotun royalty, and you are taking your proper place."

As the chariot came to a stop before the gray castle, he straightened. _Walk out like a king._

The young sentry came back to open the chariot, and Loki, proudly showing his real skin, drew himself up to his fullest height as he stepped out. He turned out to offer a hand to Natasha, who was dressed in a soft gown of golden Asgardian crepe, the light fabric fluttering in the breeze. She pulled her long fur cloak close as she emerged into the frigid air.

The great stone doors opened, and Fálki came out, looking harried. "Loki and Natasha," he said warmly, taking each of their hands in turn. "I am sorry I could not ride out to meet you. Welcome."

"I hear you were at _samræðaborð_."

Falki nodded, his expression darkening. "Vanaheim has called for our aid," he told him in low tones, guiding Loki and Natasha to the castle. "Muspelheim, it would seem, is desperate."

"They are under attack?"

"We are sending soldiers. I believe they are going to Asgard next."

"Thor will send a legion as well," Loki assured. "One of Asgard's best warriors- and one of Thor's and my oldest friends- is a native of Vanaheim."

"Hogun is already there," Natasha told him. "I planned to train with Fandral and Hogun yesterday, and Fandral told me Hogun had gone to Vanaheim."

"Perhaps Ixchel, too, will help?" ventured Fálki. "I am pleased at the alliance building between our four worlds. It has been strengthened through the unions of King Touhal and Queen Sif, of King Thor and Queen Jane, of you and your queen... Midgard, Asgard, Jotunheim, and Ixchel, all uniting. Together, we are strong."

Loki smiled. "It would appear as though Odin's hope came true after all." There was still a bitter taste to the words.

"We have a bright future," Fálki replied, his words reminiscent of Natasha's.

As they walked, Loki glanced at his wife. Head held high, perfect posture, gliding down the hallway, she was the very image of a queen. She looked as though she had been born into a royal house. It was a talent of Natasha's, to be able to blend in, to play the part of anyone; it was part of what had made her such a great spy. She was invisible because she could look like she belonged anywhere. Loki wondered when it would really hit her that she wasn't just playing a part anymore, that she was a queen of one world and was about to be crowned a princess in another.

They stopped at a set of double doors covered in Jotun runes. "This is where I shall leave you," Fálki told them. "These will be your quarters. I have done my best to make sure the arrangements are suitable. I will send attendants shortly; if you need anything more, please ask them."

With that, Fálki left, and Loki pushed open the doors.

Even Natasha was impressed. "Look at that," she said, stepping over the threshold. "Loki... look at this."

The room was large, as one would expect from a castle which housed giants, but Fálki had clearly kept its new occupants in mind. The four-poster bed, its stone columns supporting a white velvet canopy, was nearly the size of the one they shared on Asgard. Fálki had taken care to cover the cold stone floor with several lavish rugs, and Loki recognized the Asgardian craftsmanship. A balcony, sealed by frosty windows, overlooked the landscape; cut into the stone floor was a bath filled with hot water, steam rising into the air.

Loki looked above them. "Vaulted ceilings," he pointed out, and Natasha laughed. Her mirth was interrupted by awe when she leaned back to see them.

Overhead, the ceiling was constructed of three domes, separated from the rest of the stone walls by a ring of thick glass. Natasha could not help but picture the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. These domes, though, were intricately decorated with stars, but not just any random pattern. One was emblazoned with the vivid colors of the Asgardian night sky that she had grown to know and love; a second was black, save for the shimmering dots of familiar Earth constellations, twinkling like gems; the last mirrored the Jotun night, a brilliant aurora, the light seeming to radiate from the ceiling.

Natasha shed her fur cloak and slung it over the back of a chair. "Are you joining me?" she asked with a smile, walking over to the balcony. She took off her gloves and crown and set them on a table; next went her dress, falling in a pile on the floor at her feet.

Loki unclasped his helmet and set it down. "It is an unjust thing," he replied, sitting down to remove his boots, "that it takes me longer than you to get undressed."

Smiling, Natasha stepped in. "I found the one warm place on this planet," she sighed, relaxing into the warm water, sitting on the smooth stone bench under the surface.

"Maybe it is not a good place for me to be, then."

"Don't be stupid."

Loki climbed in and sat next to her; she rested her head on his shoulder.

"What do you think about this impending war?" she asked.

He sighed. "In a way, I feel bad for the Fire Giants; their world is dying. They do need a place to go. If only they could have learned to live with an existing civilization, or if they could have found an empty world to colonize..." He trailed off. "I fear for their future. King Eriyuputa and Prince Karaiputa have been at war with each other for the last ten years. They are twin brothers; Eriyuputa is heir because he was born mere seconds before his brother. I fear the strife between the brothers will destroy them... _and_ their people."

"Which one was attacking Ixchel?"

"I do not know. I saw neither of them on the field that day."

She kicked away from the bench and floated around, sliding into Loki's lap and wrapping her legs around him. "Enough war."

He put his arms around her waist as she leaned in for a kiss. "We have a nice big bed," he suggested, reaching up to run his fingers through her hair.

"It's too cold out there. It's warm here."

"There are furs and blankets-"

Loki's plea was interrupted as the door opened and two Jotun servants walked in, stopping short at the sight of their future king and queen.

"_Við biðjumst_," stammered the young woman. "We are sorry- we will- return later."

As soon as the door shut, Natasha and Loki burst out laughing.

xx

Over a cup of black coffee, Abigail spoke to the familiar face on her computer screen. "Hacktivists," she was saying with a sneer. "Our biggest asset, and they don't even know it."

Victor folded his hands. "Tell me."

"The Rising Tide. They're always looking for a way in, a way to get information from SHIELD, so I gave them a way- to a certain set of files. They'll think they've struck gold, of course. All the dirt they can hope for on the Avengers. They'll release it to the public, and we'll look innocent- the victims of a terrible breach. Maria will fire some IT specialist, and no one will be the wiser. Then she'll be trying to do covert damage control, because you know she's still loyal to them, and that will give me all the time in the world to hunt and kill."

"Yes. Adequate."

The smug look slid off her face. "Is there something else I should be doing?"

"Not at the moment. I will have your soldiers soon."

"Sir, may I ask where they're coming from?"

"You may not," came the curt reply, and the screen went dark.

"'Adequate,' you say," she scoffed, draining her cup. "That was a great plan, asshole."


End file.
